Food. Filipino Food.

Desserts

August 26, 2007

My grandmother and her sisters sometimes make a quick dessert of caramel covered, deep-fried doughballs made from rice flour, macapuno, and water. They call these sweet spheres "Cascarone". Problem is, they also refer to another dessert that they make as "Cascarone" as well. This second "Cascarone" is also a deep-fried dough; but it is shaped by rolling it off of the tines of a fork (kind of like gnocchi) and covered with a white sugar glaze.

I'm confused too.

I guess the term "Cascarone" refers, in general, to a deep-fried dessert covered in sugar? I have no idea. I didn't want to question my grandmother, lest I be finger-jabbed in my Adam's apple. Further research into this matter was fruitless as well (and by research, I mean Google). I did however, find a similar dessert in my Memories of Philippine Kitchens cookbook that was referred to as "Bunuelos"--the dough was completely different, but these Bunuelos were shaped into spheres, deep-fried, and covered in syrup.

Anyhoo, I'm not sure why I'm so fascinated with the name of this dessert. It's not that I don't believe my grandmother, it's just that I've never heard of "Cascarone" in this context before. If any of my Filipino readers could provide some clarity, it would be much appreciated. Until then though, I will just refer to this dessert as Brown Sugary Balls.

Well, it turns out that the term “binalot” also refers to the Filipino method of preparing foods in various types of wrappers—usually banana leaves, although other wrapper types may also fit in this category. And with “Binalot” being the theme for the current Lasang Pinoy event, I had a couple of ideas to play around with.

June 07, 2007

After reading an L.A. Times article yesterday about the arrival of Indian Mangoes in Southern California, I knew I had to get my hands on a box of these sweet fruits. Although Filipinos do have a weakness for mangoes, as seen here, I rushed out to the nearest Indian grocery store for entirely other reasons.

Here in SoCal, a majority of the mangoes found in supermarkets, if not all of them, come from Mexico. Indian Mangoes, on the other hand, were banned from U.S. soil for quite some time because they can potentially harbor mango seed weevils. I’m serious. I didn’t make that up. Mango seed weevils.

According to that Times article, the ban on Indian Mangoes was lifted because they can now be treated with irradiation to zap any potential evil weevils. Now, while irradiation may scare some people off, it was the main factor that convinced me to buy a case of Indian Mangoes. Why? I figured irradiated mangoes would give me super powers.

You know, like how that irradiated spider bit Peter Parker and he became Spider Man? Duh!

May 22, 2007

Ah yes, not quite at the level of Dave Chappelle, but comedic gold nonetheless from my paternal Grandfather Juan (AKA Grandpa Johnny, AKA Johnny Boom-Boom, AKA The Chairman). That comedic gem was on my mind this past weekend when I exhumed the canister for my ice cream maker from the back of my freezer in hopes of creating a recipe for Macapuno Ice Cream. Macapuno is a type of coconut that is grown in the Philippines – the same place where my Grandfather was grown no less.

Macapuno is also known as “mutant coconut” because the meat inside of this naturally occurring oddity is more abundant and softer than the meat found in normal coconuts. Despite its unfortunately icky-sounding English name, Macapuno is an incredibly delicious fruit (or is it a nut? Damn you Johnny Boom-Boom!). And here in the states, you can find jarred Macapuno in most any Asian market. The jarred variety is usually labeled something like “Sweet Macapuno Strings” as threads of grated coconut are preserved in some sort of gelatin – think of it as coconut jelly (or jam, depending on how it shakes for you;).

Filipinos use Macapuno in a variety of desserts: from cakes, to flan, to Halo-halo. But for me, ice cream is one of the best mediums for this mutant. So ice cream it was this time around at the Burnt Lumpia Worldwide Headquarters.

May 13, 2007

Flan is the Sean “Puffy” Combs of the dessert world – it’s rich, decadent, and goes by a few different aliases: Crème Caramel, Caramel Custard, Flan de Leche, and Leche Flan.

Despite its multiple monikers, Flan is more or less a caramel-topped, custard-based dessert that is prepared using the same simple ingredients of eggs, milk, and sugar. Why all the different names for the same dessert? Well, with Flan, it ain’t where you from, it’s where you at. (That last sentence did not sound as cool as I thought it would. Dork!)

For instance, Flan is the general term used for this sweet treat in the U.S. (Mmm-mmm tasty!) and Spain (Delicioso!). In the U.K., Flan is called Caramel Custard (Right-o chap!), and in France they refer to it as Crème Caramel (Uhhh, um, ménage a trois?). Our friends in Latin America may order Flan de Leche at the end of a meal (!Muy sabroso!). And of course, in my household, and in households in the Philippines, we refer to this dessert as Leche Flan (Sarap!). Whew (I am amazed by my awesome multilingualness!)!

Leche Flan is one of the many legacies of Spanish colonialism in the Philippines. And in the Philippines, Leche Flan is usually prepared using either Carabao’s (water buffalo) milk, or a combination of canned condensed milk and canned evaporated milk. Canned milk is used out of convenience, but because of the tropical climate in the Philippines, it is also used (I assume) because it doesn’t spoil as readily as fresh milk.

My grandmother’s recipe for Leche Flan calls for a can each of condensed milk and evaporated milk, a dozen egg yolks, some sugar, and some vanilla. Conversely, my mother (AKA Lightning Lumpia) uses regular old cow’s milk.

Also, instead of baking individual servings in separate ramekins, than say, the French would do with Crème Caramel, Leche Flan is usually prepared in large pans called Llaneras. My grandmother and mother just use round cake pans to make their Leche Flan. After baking, they would then turn the Leche Flan out of its pan and slice it into individual servings.

Since I had plenty of milk and half-and-half, and neither canned nor Carabao’s milk, I decided to make my own version of Leche Flan. I do plan on making my grandmother’s more traditional version sometime in the future, as it is one of my favorites that she makes. My grandmother’s version is particularly sweet and rich, and I’d be interested to taste test real milk vs. canned milk Leche Flans some day.

[By the way, I just realized how strange it is that I decided to use milk and half-and-half because that is what is convenient for me, rather than canned milk being convenient. Is that ironic? I’m not sure. My sense of irony is lackluster. Damn you Alanis! Damn you straight to hell!]